


A Lifetime Of Waiting

by nightsammy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angsty Schmoop, Bottom Dean Winchester, CODA: 15x20, Heaven, Heaven first times yay!, M/M, Schmoop, bottom!Dean, carry on, ish?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:34:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27690764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightsammy/pseuds/nightsammy
Summary: Sam has had a lifetime without Dean. Then, they're reunited. Coda for 15x20.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 10
Kudos: 97





	A Lifetime Of Waiting

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have betas, any and all mistakes are mine. I don't warn about major character death because well, they're already dead and "living" in Heaven.

"You're staring." 

"What?" 

Sam watches Dean's face twist into a grin as he turns to look at him briefly. "I said; _you're staring_." 

Normally, Sam would've made a joke, or told his older brother to shut up. But now? He wants nothing more than for Dean to keep talking, to keep smiling at him. It feels like a dream, one he's had countless times before, but it feels more real. The heat from the sun has warmed up the leather seats of the Impala, Dean's cologne is making Sam almost dizzy, and he can make out the words of the song on the radio. Usually everything around him blurs out when he sees Dean in his dreams. This is different. 

He _knows_ he died. He remembers. But he still doesn't quite dare to believe that it's actually Dean that's beside him in the driver's seat. That they both came to Heaven, that they're together again. It's been nearly _40_ damn years. 

_So what if I am?_ he wants to say. Instead, he settles for, "I know."

He can't stop staring at his big brother, who looks exactly like the day he passed. The crinkles around his eyes are prominent, tells a story of a life lived. A life that was cut way too short. It makes something ache inside him, and the feeling surprises him. He figures Heaven doesn't necessarily take away all pain. 

The car ride is silent. Tunes from Radiohead are playing softly from the radio, the volume on low. It's a comfortable silence ⏤ lets them both process what this means. 

They're together. And they're free. Now, it's for eternity. 

* * *

When the Impala finally rolls to a halt, Sam has no idea how long they've been driving for. All he knows, is that the house at their stop looks exactly like the house they squatted in when they were teens, and their father had been hunting a werewolf. "Pocatello," Sam says, under his breath.

"Idaho," Dean adds, confirming. "Stayed here for three weeks. You sprained your ankle falling off that swing." 

Sam turns to look at where Dean is pointing, and sure enough, the swing is still there. Sam scoffs then as he gives Dean a glare.

"If I'm not mistaken, I _broke_ it," he corrects, and Dean only tuts.

"Nah, pretty sure it was a sprain. You just wanted someone to kiss your boo-boo's." 

Sam flushes, knows Dean isn't entirely wrong in his claims. Sam did in fact break his ankle, but his whining and complaints afterwards might've been blown a bit out of proportion to get more attention. 

"How did you know it'd be here?" Sam asks once their banter ends. 

Dean only shrugs. "I didn't. But it's ours." 

The house isn't in great condition, it never had been. The paint is peeling off, once white, now a light shade of grey. The windows are dirty, one is boarded up due to a broken one. Sam knows for a fact that the front door jams and needs a particular hard pull-push to open, and the floorboards of the patio are old enough to sway under their feet. Still, it feels like home. 

Sam doesn't notice Dean's out of the car before the driver's door slams behind him. He's jerked out of his thoughts by it, and finally opens his own, taking a step out. The house might've seen better days, but the front yard is greener than he remembers, flowers blooming in whites, yellows, reds. Dean's suddenly by his side, nudges Sam's shoulder with his own as he grins up at him.

"C'mon. Let's head inside." 

* * *

Three hard shoves later, and Dean basically stumbles through the front door, much to Sam's delight. He hears him curse something to himself, but it doesn't register ⏤ as Sam's too busy being hit with a freight train of nostalgia. Sam's very aware this is Heaven, projecting good memories and whatever they desire to be there. It still feels _very real_ though, and Sam can't help but think that it hasn't changed since that summer of '96. 

"Dude, it even smells the same," he almost whispers, dropping his duffel bag that he grabbed from the trunk onto the couch. He can see the dust particles dance in the sunlight that peaks through the flimsy curtains, and he doesn't know why it makes him smile, but it does. 

"Yeah, awful," Dean chuckles, walking up behind him. An arm wraps firmly around Sam's waist, and there's a kiss pressed to his shoulder blade. Sam's eyes slip closed for a moment, and he reaches up, holding Dean's hand with his own. The reality of it all hits him again, more firmly this time, and his eyes blink rapidly as he feels tears pressing on. 

"Hey, you okay?" Dean asks him, he can clearly tell the shift in Sam even with Sam's back turned to him.

"Uh, yeah... Yeah, I'm great, it's just ⏤ it's a lot, y'know?" 

Dean turns him then, a solid grip around him as he makes Sam face him.

"How long?" he asks, and Sam wants to sob. _A lifetime_. 

"Long enough," he decides to say, giving a jerky nod. One more word, and he'll break down, he thinks. 

Dean smiles at him, just as soft and content as the smile he'd given him after he'd said he loved him. Like everything in his world was right, the final puzzle piece placed. 

"Well you know I ain't going nowhere," he tells Sam, his hand moving up to wipe a fallen tear from Sam's cheek. "It's you and me. Always has been." 

A choked sob leaves him then, his whole face trembling to keep it together for his big brother. He looks so peaceful. Sam has never seen him like this. 

"Will you kiss me?" 

He half-expects Dean to make a joke, to make fun of him for _asking permission_ after everything they've been through. Instead, Dean's smile just widens, and then there's a soft press of lips against his, and Sam thinks he might die once more. 

* * *

Sam tries, he really does, but the soft press of Dean's lips against his, the gentle hold of his neck ⏤ he can't. He needs more. So he pushes, gets into Dean's space and backs him up against the wall, Dean so pliant for a moment Sam thinks he can have this. It's not until he's biting and sucking his way down Dean's neck that he realizes he's being pushed away.

It's gentle, but god, does it hurt. 

"Wh ⏤, something wrong?"

"Sammy, c'mon," Dean says, but he's still smiling, so it can't be all bad, right?

"Dean, I need ⏤," Sam begins, but Dean nods to cut him off. 

"I know. Come here," he replies simply, holding out his hand for Sam to take. Sam accepts immediately, lets himself be dragged along, up the stairs, down the hallway to the second to last bedroom. Their bedroom.

The bed in there looks exactly like the one they'd had all those years ago. In the back of his mind, Sam hopes the Heaven version of it has fewer springs and softer pillows, but it's the least important thing to him right now. Dean finally turns to him, pulls him closer, and with both hands cradling Sam's face, he's kissing him.

Now, Sam will be the first one to admit - their relationship have never been perfect. By a _long_ shot. They've lied, kept secrets, hurt each other... But they've always reunited. Every argument, every separation; eventually, they've always ended up back in each other's arms. And Dean? Well, he has never been much of a talker when it comes to feelings. Sam figures it comes with the territory; being the parental figure that's supposed to keep his kid brother safe and sound, to not worry or scare him, among other things. And sex between them hasn't been much different. It's been hot, heavy, dirty ⏤ maybe after particular close-call hunts it would be more slow, more intimate. But it wasn't like this. Never like this.

Not with Dean's hands on him like he's holding something too precious to bruise. His lips so soft against Sam's they feel almost apologetic. And the best part, in Sam's opinion? Dean is still smiling.

He can feel it before he hears it, the laughter that escapes Dean. It makes Sam laugh too.

"What?"

"I get to have this," Dean replies, immediately, no hesitation. "This is my Heaven." 

Sam can feel himself flush at his brother's words, and his smile widens. "I knew it. You're the biggest chick-flick there is." 

"Only when it counts," Dean adds easily, gives him a shrug, and then he's backing up, pulling Sam along as he moves them towards the bed. As the back of Dean's knees hit the bed, his fingers move down to run along the bottom hem of Sam's shirt, then back up. His hands slide up Sam's chest, underneath his flannel shirt, and then it's being pushed off of Sam's shoulders. T-shirt follows, then a belt buckle opens, followed by the button and zipper of Sam's jeans, and before Sam's brain can play catch-up, he's naked.

Dean turns them, pushes his not-so-little brother down onto the mattress, and gets to work on his own undressing.

"Kinda unfair you get to undress me and not the other way around," Sam says, although he _does_ appreciate the view. As a matter of fact, he can't stop staring. Maybe Dean taking charge here was a good idea, Sam's not sure he'd be able to do much with all the blood leaving his head. It's not just Dean looking _hot_ , it's also the fact that Sam hasn't had this in what feels like forever.

"Well," Dean says, finally chucking the last piece of clothing somewhere behind him, "There's plenty of time for that later. For now, though, just lemme take care of you." 

Finally, Dean crawls onto the bed. The kisses he presses against Sam's abs, up towards his chest, across his nipples, collarbone, shoulders... They're driving Sam insane.

"Dean, please," he murmurs, staring down at his entire world, finally in front of him, finally tangible and real and _forever_. 

"I know, Sammy, I know." 

Dean finally shifts, moves to straddle Sam's lap. Sam's dick showed its interest a while ago and is already curving up against his belly. Dean's growing hard, too, and when Dean gives a roll of his hips, they both moan in unison. There's strong hands pressing against Sam's chest, nails digging into the skin ever so slightly. Then there's lips against lips, a solid body holding Sam in place, fingers in his hair, teeth tugging at his bottom lip, and Sam wants to cry. Wants to put a pause on this and just bury his face in his brother's neck, hold him there and not let him go.

"You good?" 

Sam doesn't even register the question until Dean pulls back enough to look at him. Then he nods, albeit too frantic to fool Dean. Then Dean grabs his hand and pulls it up between them. Sam watches as his hand gets pressed to the center of Dean's chest, held there tightly. There's a steady beat beneath his fingers, a familiar one. Sam's gaze flickers up to Dean's.

"I'm here," he reminds Sam, his hand not leaving Sam's. It mirrors a moment in time Sam would rather forget, but this time the beat isn't fading, the eyes gazing back at him aren't struggling to stay open. If anything, Dean seems younger, more alive than ever. There's no aches holding him down, no weight of the world on his shoulders. There's no secrets, no lies, no doubts in either of their minds. Just Sam and Dean, soulmates finally back together. 

Dean removes his hand after a while, leans down to brush his lips against Sam's ear.

"Y'know what's cool about Heaven?" 

Sam wants to laugh, because there's a lot of fucking cool things about Heaven, _Dean alive being one of them_ , but he shakes his head anyways, humoring his brother. "No, what?"

Dean shifts, sitting upright for a moment before he lifts his hips, his right hand moving back behind himself to guide Sam's cock to his hole. With a grin and hips lowering himself down on Sam's length, he adds, "You don't need any prep." 

Sam's hands grip at Dean's hips suddenly, hold tight as he steadies himself. "Jesus, a warning next time?" 

Dean lets out a laugh as he sinks down, not saying anything until he's fully seated on Sam's cock. He lets out a breath and returns his hands on Sam's chest, steadying himself too. "Now, what would be the fun in that?" 

He licks his lips, teeth digging into the lower one as his eyes slip closed, like he's taking it all in, and Sam can't stop staring at him. 

Dean finally starts moving, lifting his hips just a little before sinking back down, slow but steady movements. A smile slips back onto his face, and when he finally opens his eyes, Sam lets out a gasp. Is it the feeling of Dean around him, or just how happy and peaceful he looks on top of him that spurs it on? Sam doesn't know, and he doesn't ponder over it. He just watches as his older brother starts riding him, hips rolling and lifting. 

Another laugh escapes Dean, and Sam must be staring, because Dean puts a finger under Sam's chin to tilt his head up, getting his attention. 

"You're kinda passive," he murmurs, but there's no heat behind it. His hand moves from Sam's chin to slide into his hair instead. "Sit up." 

Sam does as he's told. He wraps one arm around Dean to hold him steady as he slowly sits up, chest pressing against Dean's. They're so close like this, more intimate than they've ever been, and Sam feels like it should be awkward somehow, but it isn't. Because Dean is still smiling, so comfortable with it, he even wraps his arms around Sam's neck.

They sit like that for a while, Dean on Sam's lap, with Sam's arms around Dean's waist and Dean's around Sam's neck. He's got one hand still sliding into Sam's hair, while the other is drawing circles on Sam's shoulder with his index finger. The kisses they share are gentle, slow, thorough.

Eventually, Dean shifts, tightens around him, and Sam lets out a groan, nearly having forgotten what they were doing. He buries his face in Dean's neck and presses soft kisses there, and Dean chuckles and squirms. 

"Ticklish," he mutters, pulling back a bit. He nudges his nose against his brother's before he leans in, arms around Sam tightening as he asks, "You gonna fuck me or what?" 

Sam bites his lip to concentrate, to steady himself, before he nods, knocking his forehead against Dean's jaw. "Yeah, gonna." 

One arm stays around Dean's waist, while the other moves back to press against the mattress, supporting his weight. He shifts his legs a bit too, getting some leverage before he shoves up, watching Dean's eyes roll back and slip closed as he shoves deep into him.

"God, you look so fucking good like this," he mutters, not able to take his eyes away from Dean's face as he starts fucking him, quick, rough thrusts upwards. Dean's face twists, eyebrows drawing together and mouth open in silent gasps as he takes it. There's nails digging into Sam's shoulder, scratching at his skin, and it spurs him on, quickens the pace a bit. 

"Oh," Dean moans, head tilting back and legs spreading a bit, as if trying to get him deeper. "Sammy, _fuck_." 

"That feel good?" Sam pants, pulling Dean as close as he can possibly get, no space between them. He can feel Dean's dick rubbing between them, hard and heavy, and he shoves up, smiles when Dean lets out a loud moan. "Right there, huh?" 

"Yeah, fuck, don't stop, keep g- _uh_ ," Dean cuts himself off with another moan as Sam hits _that spot_ inside him, and then his hand moves between them, wrapping around his own cock as he jerks himself off in time with Sam's thrusts.

He only needs four jerks before he's coming, spurting across his own hand and Sam's chest. His other hand is still in Sam's hair, and has pulled Sam into what resembles a hug without really meaning to.

Sam has stilled his thrusts, only rolling slowly up into him as Dean comes down from his high. When Dean eventually pulls back a bit, his face is a mix of utter bliss and confusion. "You didn't - did you?" 

Sam shakes his head then, and before Dean can question anything he tightens his hold around him and flips them around, Dean on his back with Sam on top of him, hot and heavy between his legs.

" _Oh_ ," is all Dean gets out, face still flushed from his orgasm. "You gonna —" 

"Yeah, Sam nods, grabbing both of Dean's hands to pull his arms above his head. "Gonna fuck you so deep and hard you might come again." 

Dean tightens around him and he lets out a shudder, but nods as his legs spread wide. "Show me what you're made out of, big boy." 

Sam lets out a chuckle before he covers Dean with his body, arms slipping below Dean's shoulders to hold him in place. Then he pulls back, almost all the way out, before shoving back into him, the force behind it so strong Dean moves a few inches up the bed. He sets a pace then, fast and nearly brutal, and Dean lets out a sob like sound as Sam continues to shove against his prostate. Sam's close enough that his thrusts stutter a bit, so reaches up, entwines his fingers with Dean's, and then he's finally coming, stilling deep inside his brother as he spills his load. He groans loudly into Dean's open mouth, swallowing Dean's gasps along with his own, and he feels Dean shudder beneath him, his dick twitching and leaking against his belly. 

When he finally finishes, he drops his head down on Dean's chest, ear pressing against the center of it, listening for the heartbeat.

It beats just as fast as Sam's had when they first reunited. 

* * *

Sam wakes up with his head tucked beneath Dean's chin and their limbs all tangled up, a thin sheet covering them from the waist down. The light that streams in through the curtains is dim, cold. It might be a street light, or the moon reflecting some light. Either way, the day seems to have passed, and Sam's not sure how long he's been out, but he feels well rested.

Dean's arm around him tightens and Sam looks up, smiling when he sees Dean look back at him.

"Hey stranger," he murmurs, kissing the tip of Dean's chin.

"Hey, you," Dean smiles, sleep evident in his voice. He stretches and groans, before his fingers slip into familiar territory — Sam's hair. "How're you feeling?" 

Sam leans into the touch and closes his eyes for just a moment, enjoying it. "Never been better." 

"I believe you," Dean smiles, eyeing his brother's peaceful expression. He gets caught once Sam opens his eyes.

"You're staring," Sam accuses, stealing Dean's line from before. That earns him an eye roll and a shove.

"Well, you try getting your brains fucked outta you, see how you feel," Dean snorts.

They fall silent, just lying there together. This is new too. Dean wasn't big on cuddling before. Sam knows for a fact he'd do it if Sam asked, because Dean would do anything for him, but it just hadn't been the nature of their relationship. Sam's glad it is now, though, and that Dean seems content with it. The fingers in Sam's hair move in circles, massaging, scratching, pulling. It would put Sam to sleep if he hadn't slept already, but he hums anyways, letting Dean know he enjoys it. 

"So, how long?" 

The question comes out of nowhere, and Sam doesn't understand right away. He frowns and looks up in confusion. "What?" 

"How long did you live?" 

Sam sits up slightly, swallows. The hand Dean had had in his hair falls away, instead it slides along Sam's lower back, rubbing comfortingly. 

"You don't have to —" 

"Thirty-six. Thirty-six years." 

The hand stills for just a moment before it continues. It's steadier, firmer, Sam can tell he's trying to apologize in a way. 

"You wanna tell me about it?" Dean asks, voice soft. He seems genuinely interested, and of course he is. After all, this was his wish all along. For Sam to have a life, to go grey, have a family, chugging viagra pills, the whole ordeal. And Sam had been happy. As happy as he could be, with his other half gone too soon. He'd made a little life for himself and Miracle, then he'd met a girl, they'd had a baby, and he had settled down. He tells Dean this, tells him about Dean Jr., how he was so smart, that he was as into cars as Dean had been, that he could make things from scratch, so creative, so bright.

"I swear, if I didn't know any better, I'd say he was your son and not mine," Sam chuckles, head lowered a bit as he flushes and smiles. He misses his son already, but he knows Dean Jr. can take care of himself. He'll be fine.

"He sounds like a good kid," Dean says, and when Sam finally dares to look up Dean looks — he looks proud. 

"He was. Is, I guess. I can't wait for you to meet him someday." Sam smiles, hand rubbing absentmindedly across Dean's chest. 

"You hate me for it?" 

The question makes Sam freeze for a moment, and he looks up at his brother. "What?" 

"For leaving. Letting go, and all." 

Sam blinks, shakes his head hard. "No," he says, shakes it again. "I could never." 

Dean nods and smiles, accepting the answer.

"Y'know, I wasn't —," Sam pauses, biting the inside of his cheek. "When it happened, I... It felt like my life was moving at the speed of light and in slow motion, all at once. And you know I'd do anything to bring you back, but I made a promise, and no matter how much it hurt, I wanted to stand by it, y'know?"

Dean watches him, listens. 

"And I was never mad at you. I never hated you, I never — I never regretted letting you go. It hurt more than I could put into words, and I knew it would. But I knew it was what you wanted. The only thing I regretted was —" 

He sniffs, voice breaking a bit. Dean sits up, bending down a bit to meet Sam's gaze. "What?" 

"I never got to tell you I loved you back." 

"Oh, Sammy," Dean mutters, pulling his huge little brother into a hug that makes Sam feel small, yet protected and loved. "I knew." 

Sam lets out a sob he's been holding for a lifetime, and squeezes his brother tighter. 

* * *

They sit together for a while, Dean's hand rubbing comforting circles across Sam's back until Sam feels fine. It's been a day filled with lots of different emotions, Sam figures, so he doesn't really blame himself for being a mess emotionally. Dean suggests they hit the shower to clean themselves up after a while, and Sam grimaces as he looks down at his own belly and chest and nods in agreement. He gets up easily, turning to watch his brother get up gingerly, wincing as he does.

"What's wrong?" he asks, frowning.

"Turns out," Dean mutters, walking awkwardly past him. "Maybe prep _is_ needed here, after all. Either that, or your dick is massive, even for Heaven's standards." 


End file.
